


Early Meetings, Early Partings

by MishaDay



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Romance, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDay/pseuds/MishaDay
Summary: Faramir is sent to Imladris in Boromir’s place, and goes through Rohan on the way.





	Early Meetings, Early Partings

The summer day Denethor threw himself from the terrace of the White Tree was a cloudless one. Still, the sun seemed dim that day, and on the next when Boromir took up the Steward's rod.

Boromir wanted to mount the damned palantir on the same damned terrace. To throw his city's prosperity in the Enemy's face. Faramir just shook his head quietly. "The Enemy's eye will look all around, and see not just the city, but the Hall of Ancestors and the White Tree that was. No, do not give temptation to any man who passes."

Boromir gave his brother the key to the chest in his office and determined not to think of it until some weeks later when he rose to a red dawn, and found his brother in the office, staring at the chest meditatively.

"Are you still nursing that wine from last night?"

Faramir regarded the goblet in his hand. "Perhaps. I did attempt sleep, but then I dreamed."

Boromir shuddered, and his sibling favored him with a sharp look. "I see you dreamed, too?"

"Yes. It's all vague, but I mislike premonitions of doom on general principle."

"Vague? For me it was not. _Seek for the Sword that was broken, In Imladris it dwells, There shall be counsels taken, Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token, That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, An the Halfling forth shall stand."_

"That's what it was?" Boromir frowned and looked down. "I could barely make it out, as whispers in the mist. But wasn't there something about Osgiliath? There were bridges and fire..."

Faramir shook his head. "Blue eyes and a sense of sadness, waiting... but that seemed different."

"No? But there was something. No matter. I'll double the guard. It'll be good drill practice, moving in and out of there."

"I must go."

Boromir looked about to protest, then fell silent. "Do you know where you're going?"

"North and west, to the elves. But I will pass through Rohan first."

"Convey my respects to Théoden. And whatever elves you might find further on."

* * *

The Golden Hall was chilled and still, but the Ranger's footfall was yet inaudible. Théoden received the brother of the Steward of Gondor, but his health did not allow him to linger for speech.

Faramir dined with Théoden's court that night, a rowdy bunch of Riders, and among them, the King's mouthpiece. When the mouth of the King, who had the ear of the King, finally spoke, the Riders stilled to listen.

"You speak much of the courage of your Rangers, Lord Faramir," and as Grima spoke, 'lord' seemed to be more of a curse than courtesy, "but you have had chance now to view the courage of the Mark: what say you, who is the most valiant of the Riders?"

"Courage is never in short supply amongst the Riders of the Mark, all men with wisdom or a clear eye to see know that. But who is the most courageous?" Faramir smiled at that. "I think you wish for me to pick a single warrior to praise, that you might then belittle and mock my judgment. You wish, perhaps, to appeal to my vanity and compare myself to the vaunted Riders. I have long considered myself a distant second to my brother in both courage and vanity, and so I shall not make that comparison.

"Nay, I say to you, there is no man in the Meduseld, in all the Mark that may rival the White Lady of Rohan. Silent and grave she stands next to her king and kinsman and while she would ride and fight for glory, she lets duty and love hold sway. Duty is a hard master when it counters your inclinations and to bend to its rod takes courage, beyond what is needed to charge full tilt at the nearest orc." 

Faramir lifted his cup, and bade the Riders to join him in a toast. "To the White Lady!" and the Hall rang with the sound of their cheers. Éowyn's pale cheeks flushed. The mouthpiece himself paled with anger.

As he again sat, he addressed himself to Théodred, and raised his voice that the King's son, and his councilors, could hear him over the din. "It is to be hoped that the King's son will have the same courage as his father's sister-daughter. For when the time comes and Théoden joins his fathers, poor Théodred must be constrained from taking to horse every time the wind blows.”

The mouthpiece averred that the king and thus his son, must lead in war. 

Faramir nodded gentle agreement. “Of course, when the realm is threatened, the king or his Steward must lead all the forces to war. But for the smaller skirmishes, the king must deputize to his marshals and captains and key his eye to the betterment of the realm in both war and peace.”

* * *

The king’s sister-daughter undertook to remove the visiting Ranger from the Meduseld and show him about Edoras while the council argued over the succession. They passed down the hill and through the market with little other than common remarks until they had nearly reached the gates.

“You work miracles, my lord, to come into a land and establish a regency for a foreign land in only a single day.”

He looked at her, almost in startlement. “An outsider may easily point out some situations which might otherwise go unsaid for fear of retribution. Gondor would be ill-served by a weak ally.”

“There may yet be that retribution. You must take care.” She nodded somberly to the gate guard as they left the city gates and moved towards a small hillock.

“I have lived near the Shadow for all my life. I know poison’s ways.” He quirked a small smile at her. “And have had to use it on orcs a time or two when force of arms has been wanting.”

“Turn poison against a poisoner?”

“In deed and in word. It works both on orcs and when a weak lord seeks to weaken a land to his own end, whatever it may be.”

“And what is your end?”

“Nothing to the detriment of Rohan, certainly. I know the value of a strong ally to our north while the Shadow deepens to the East. I merely pass through, though if my coming is for the betterment of Rohan, then I rejoice to see you flourish.”

“And for those who dwell within?”

"I would see you happy my lady, however that end may be achieved."

"Then stay, and see Grima gone entire and my cares lightened."

"Nay, I cannot, for my duty lies in the North and you and I both know what cages duty may be. Yet I shall return once duty is done, if only to see you smile."

"All of Rohan seems to me to be a cage."

"And yet you will endure until duty rewards you."

"What rewards will you have of your duty my lord? I have none here."

"If Ithilien were free from the Enemy's hand, my brother would give her to me, for he knows how much I love her verdant valleys." He shrugged, "I may dream a little while on that chance, but my mother's dower lands in Belfalas have come to me also and there is a pretty house where I might bring a wife and a garden for my children to play in.” He shook his head and turned from her, looking to the East. “But that also presupposes an end to conflict, and I fear we will not see that end soon. Duty makes me a Captain of Rangers, ever caught in the battle against our foes. Sometimes I dream of a helpmate in war as well as peace.”

"You spin an enticing web with your words."

"Do not you spin idle tales in your spare moments?"

"When I was young and my grandmother yet lived, I wished to be everything she was and she trained me as a shieldmaiden. I have not had opportunity to test my skill in battle."

"But you train still?"

"Yes. I will not have my sword arm weak if I were needed."

They were silent a moment, and Faramir handed her over a small gully before speaking again. "I am to spar with your brother and cousin later today. Would you test your blade with us?"

"Most men would object to being bested by a woman."

"I am not afraid, my lady. I have had my pride handed to me by lesser beings than the White Lady. To the contrary, it would be an honor to cross swords with you."

* * *

Théodred had not proven wary enough to beat the Gondorim: after only a few passes, he had twisted to the ground and had Théodred’s feet out from underneath him, and the blunted practice blade at his throat. 

Éomer was then wary to his tricks, and his greater bulk matched well against Faramir’s speed and skill. Still, the Rohirrim were horsemen, and Éomer was not as practiced a fighter on foot as he was on Firefoot; too, though he was slighter, Faramir had the height of the Dúnedain, and the reach. The bout went long, but in a show of surprising strength, Faramir rushed Éomer in a burst of speed worthy of a equine charge, and bore him to the ground. 

Éowyn let him rest after that, until his breath was again even, and none could say he tired himself before she engaged him. He was swift, but she was swifter. He was strong, but she knew better than to meet him with strength, and twisted out of more that one trap. He knocked her shield from her hand, and she drew a dagger instead. He sacrificed his shield to steal her swift dagger and she shifted to a two-handed grip that knocked his own sword from his hand. 

In a final flurry, she knocked him to his knees and had her sword lifting his chin to look at her. 

Panting, he bade her look down, to where he held her own dagger to her belly. 

A slow clap came from behind the spectators, and all turned to see the king leaning on the fence of the arena. Théoden’s pale skin seemed brighter under the sun, and the brisk wind put color in his faded cheeks. 

“My lord, I bid you not weary yourself with these petty matters.” Grima attempted to lead him away from his son and sister-son at the fence, and the spectacle of his sister-daughter with her blade at their visitor’s throat.

Théodred laughed, and placed his hand on his father’s sleeve. “Neither my cousin nor our visitor are petty, Wormtongue. You and your own petty matters plague the king. Leave us.” 

Grima opened his mouth, and closed it as Éowyn’s dagger embedded itself in the fence next to his hand. “You would be wise to obey your prince.” Grima left. 

On his knees with his head tilted back to gaze up at Éowyn, Faramir was the picture of surrender. His arm he left outstretched in the throw until Éowyn removed her sword and with her thumb wiped the smallest spot of blood from his neck. 

* * *

"I think he loves you cousin."

Éowyn started at Théodred's soft pronouncement. She eased her white-knuckled grip from her belt knife and turned to her cousin who, it seemed, knew the reach of her arm too well, for he was well away. "Who? Who dares court me and yet lives? Or have you not yet gotten around to banishing this Rider?"

Théodred frowned. Her words were more bitter than he had expected, and for her to expect... "Éowyn -" he started softly, but cut himself off. "No, that is another matter. Know you not I speak of no Rider? It is the Ranger, Lord Faramir, who praises not your beauty, but your courage and so I fear he loves you."

"Fear he loves me?" She shook her head in denial. "He is so grave and reserved. His courtesy touches the least of the chambermaids, and so they all love him, but what could touch such a cold man?"

"Cold? He lingers yet in Edoras while autumn closes in and snow begins to threaten the passes. Nothing keeps him here while yet his duty calls him north before winter may prevent him going."

She turned away. "Duty. How I have come to loathe that word."

"He waits, cousin." Théodred moved forward and took her by the shoulders. "He waits on a word, a look from you. Duty be damned, he waits for you."

Éowyn shrugged him off and turned again. "And how long shall I wait, Theo? Were I a true lover, I would follow him to the Western Seas and beyond! Yet I would stay, chained to Edoras, while my love seeks doom in the northern mountains. How can I reconcile duty and love? Shall I sell this cage for another? Shall it all be for naught and we never meet again in this life?"

Théodred stopped her mouth with his hand. "Do you love him, Éowyn?"

She dropped her gaze to the worn floorboards and nodded. When he removed his hand, a whisper emerged. "You know I do." She laughed helplessly, mirthlessly. "You likely knew before I did."

"Nay cousin, I am not the keeper of your heart." He smirked. "At least not since you stopped hiding your keepsake box under your bed."

She snorted and her lips twitched. "Nay, it lurks under no bed, though I contemplated hiding it under others. Éomer's has too much traffic, and yours cannot be found in that pit you call a bed chamber!"

"I am struck! Maligned!"

"Struck in the head! The chambermaids have sworn there must be orc parts enough hiding in the corners to make a full orc, and swear not to enter into the room without a guard for protection!"

"Slander! There are parts for only half an orc, I'm sure…

"A particularly short orc? Perhaps one lacking a head, that you have instead saved for a gruesome trophy?"

"Nah, I'm sure I split him lengthwise, to better divide him with Éomer!"

* * *

"I, too, know what it is to have a father struck down."

Théodred jumped and turned. Steelwind tossed his head in protest and Théodred turned back to settle his steed. Faramir moved forward, slowly, and the horse settled as his Rider soothed him and the new man breathed into his nostrils.

"It came slowly, but the realization of his frailty was like sudden summer snow."

"Sharp and cold." Faramir agreed, "looking back, the signs of Shadow's hand were there, but we were too close to see."

"Éowyn was the only one close enough. Éomer and I were often away, and we did not heed her warnings as such. And there was worse."

"Poison dripped in the ear of your father. I know. You at least, may look to a man."

* * *

She found him at dawn, watching the sun rise from the steps of the Meduseld. She watched him for a moment as he eased softly from one foot to the other, the watchman's slow shift of weight, so slow that it would not cause a sound. He faced the distant hills, but his gaze looked inwards. She spoke, but he did not startle. "You must leave."

"Yes."

"Soon."

"Before the snow comes, before the growing darkness causes war to come crashing down upon us all."

"Will your quest to the north stop it?"

"I have hope that it might."

"How can you have hope in these dark days? Where does such simple faith come from?"

He turned to her and smiled. "You hold my faith, lady. You say you cannot see light in this darkness, and yet you persevere. You are a marvel of strength and sweetness entire."

She blushed, but could not drop his grey-eyed gaze. "Will you return?"

He bent his head and looked up at her through his lashes. "When duty is done, will you let me be your reward?"

She gave him her hand, and he kissed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, readers!   
> I attempted Nanowrimo this year, failed at finishing my primary fic, but wandered off in the middle of it and finished this instead. (It's been lingering, missing a scene or two, for the better part of a decade.)


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